A minute till this bus departs from BART,
an April Sunday almost summer hot.
I had my wine and pizza – now we start
to motor north on College, with a lot
of ice-cream lovers, shoppers, drivers, pairs
and passengers who want to climb on board.
Beside me is the smell of soapy hair,
but I’m near home and whiffs can be ignored.

I get the urge for people every day.
There comes a time at least each afternoon
when loner I feel antsy and obey
the call to mix that takes me from my room.
Agoraphobic and gregarious,
I lust for solitude but ride the bus.